


It Should Have Been You

by Slut_4_Jagermeister



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Author Regrets Some Things, F/M, Hatesex, Past Ned/Cat, hatefuck, yes I am going to hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slut_4_Jagermeister/pseuds/Slut_4_Jagermeister
Summary: Catelyn finds solace in a familiar face after her husbands execution





	It Should Have Been You

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y’all are HAPPY and you know who you are

Jon Snow tried to take Winterfell in for the last time. He slinked through the courtyard, past the busy stables and into the dank crypts. He had said his goodbyes to the siblings that still remained in the castle and the servants he was fond of, but he had one goodbye left. Ned Stark’s statue was still being made, but Jon stood over his freshly dug tomb regardless. 

He sent a silent prayer to the Old Gods. For vengeance, justice, anything to make those pay for their wrongdoings. Lord Stark had perished at the hands of King Joffrey for a crime he did not commit, and his brother Robb was preparing for war. 

Jon’s aunt Lyanna regarded him silently as she always did, her candle flickering softly and lighting up her face in a soft glow. He never liked the queer feel of her stone eyes on him, nor the imposing ones of the Kings of Winter, so he bid his farewell to his father quickly and left for his room. On the morrow he would join brother Yoren to the wall to spend out the rest of his days as part of the Night’s Watch, as noble an institution a bastard could hope for. 

Ghost hunted while he finished packing his things. It wasn't much, but more than he assumed most had in their possession. Jon was clasping the final saddlebag when he heard the door to his chamber creak open. To his surprise Lady Catelyn stood in the threshold, clothed in a simple shift that seemed inappropriate.. She didn't say anything as she closed and locked the door behind her and approached him at his bed, her fiery braid swinging with each step. She stopped curiously close to him, her blue eyes burning with disdain into his dark grey ones. Lady Stark had never been fond of Jon Snow, and that may have been an understatement. Ever since he could remember she had treated him as no more than the mud she flung from her boots. It infuriated him to be treated as such, as if he had asked to be squirted into his mother's belly and whelped. He hated her for that. As a mercy, if he could call it as such, she'd never talked to him, never approached him, until now. It was shocking enough she'd left his brother Bran’s bedside, but the fact he was leaving the next morning filled Jon with suspicion. He felt his throat work, uncomfortable. 

“Lady Stark.” Jon said simply, moving back towards his bed until his thighs hit the edge. In truth he hadn't really seen her since his father died, but the castle talked. She had been wracked with grief over her Lord husband’s murder and daughters held at ransom. Jon felt his fists ball and his temper rise at the thought of Arya being held prisoner, but forced himself to let the feeling go. *They’d never hurt her. She’s too valuable. Besides, the Watch takes no part.* 

Catelyn closed the gap between them, forcing him to sit on his bed. Her hand reached out absentmindedly to cup his face, then twirl a lock of hair through her fingers. Jon jerked back in surprise and disgust. She was looking at him, but she was 1,000 miles away. 

“You really do look like him, you know. Ned.”

The words sent Jon reeling. It was the last thing he wanted to hear from his father's widow while she hovered over him. She placed her hands on his shoulders, and Jon looked at her, truly looked at her for maybe the first time. She was still beautiful for her age. With her features relaxed in her reverie Jon could see she was comely, a fact that could not be denied no matter how much he despised her. 

She lifted herself onto his lap into a swift movement that made Jon’s cock stir despite himself. It seemed wrong, her poised over his manhood while her husband’s bones made their way to Winterfell. His initial reaction was to shove her off, to bolt from his room and leave early for the wall, the guides be damned. Instead a different thought came to him, an opportunity to own this woman that had scorned him all his life. An opportunity to lie with a woman that wouldn't come again once he said his vows. An opportunity to forget about his grievances for a while. 

Jon’s hands gripped her waist hard and drug her further into his lap. He found himself tugging her braid hard enough that she exposed her neck and he bit it fiercely. Something in the back of his mind screamed that this was folly. Jon ignored it. He was rewarded with a small moan and a deft roll of hips against his hardening cock. They pulled apart for a moment, panting. He could see his own contempt for her shine within her eyes, but strangely, desire lurked there as well. His right hand fisted into the back of her head to force it down so he could crash his lips upon hers, nipping hard and drawing small beads of blood as he went. 

Jon didn't bother being gentle with her. He assaulted her mouth and bucked his hips up with fervor. She responded in kind, gyrating on top of him before forcing him flat against the bed with a hand clasped cruelly against his throat. With the other hand she hastily undid his breeches and gathered her skirts around her. 

Lady Stark sank onto his cock without warning. He had never been inside a woman in all his 17 years, and had heard enough from Robb and Theon to know it was good, but he had never expected it to feel this good. Shamed for the briefest second! Jon tried to stifle a groan by biting down sharply on his lower lip, but it didn’t last; she was as slippery as the silver trout that was her house sigil. Catelyn rode him with urgency, her moves practiced and adept. When Jon growled the noise was muffled by the hand still clasped firmly around his throat. She was sneering down at him as she worked her magic, seemingly proud of herself. That would not do. 

Removing her hand he flipped her with ease and pinned both above her head by the wrists to rest against the headboard. She started moaning and writhing then, her legs around his waist to urge him on. Instead of what Jon had been lead to believe women muttered when they were enjoying themselves, she locked her icy hateful eyes with him.

“It should have been you,” she gasped. “You. Not Bran, not Ned. You.” 

She chanted it like a mantra as Jon increased his thrusts, not caring if he was hurting her while his pleasure began to crescendo. She seemed to relish in the roughness, her hips rising to meet his with each stroke. Fingernails raked his back like 10 ravens, but the pain never registered. If she meant to throw Jon off with her words, she had made a mistake. They spurred him forward until he came completely apart inside her. 

Jon slowed but stayed raised above her as he emptied everything he had as she quaked and pulsed around him. He didn’t know if that meant she’d found her climax as well, and quite frankly didn’t care. His mouth curled in a cruel smirk as he lowered herself to whisper in her ear. “If the gods are good, I'll take after my father, and you'll have a Snow of your own in a few moons.” He didn't mean it of course, but the chance to crawl under her skin was too delicious to deny. When he drew back to gauge her reaction it wasn't a surprise when it was a slap across the face. The sting was worth it. 

“I think not, bastard.” With that, she disentangled herself from his body and crudely wrapped her shift around her before exiting the chamber and slamming the door behind her, never to be seen again in Jon Snow’s life.


End file.
